


Synchronization ⟲

by methaemoglobinemia (crimsonherbarium)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Artist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Intimacy, M/M, POV Simon, Painting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sexual Interfacing, ask me about my headcanons, no beta we die like men, the androids don't have dicks i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 18:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15824277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonherbarium/pseuds/methaemoglobinemia
Summary: A quiet afternoon of watching Markus paint takes an unexpected turn for Simon.





	Synchronization ⟲

There were many things Simon admired about Markus.

His determination, his natural leadership, his piercing mismatched eyes, the easy way he took charge in any given situation and made things fall into place somehow. The warmth of his voice. The way he smiled when he looked at Simon.

But none of those things compared to the way Markus looked when he painted. The absolute peace that permeated his being when he picked up a brush. The skill with which he swept it across the canvas, creating entire worlds from nothingness. Just a few smears of colorful acrylics could tell a story of something completely new.

Simon was captivated.

He loved to watch Markus paint—he could spend days in the studio, sitting quietly in the corner and observing Markus with gentle eyes. It was as if he could almost feel what Markus was feeling, capture just a glimpse of what was in Markus’s heart. Markus painted with love.

Today, Simon was so entranced by the way the golden light of the setting sun outlined Markus's face that he hadn't paid a bit of attention to what the other man was actually painting. He blinked rapidly as Markus set the palette and brushes aside, realizing that he'd been staring for what felt like hours.

A smile curled Markus's lips as he wiped his hands on a stained rag. "Would you like to see, Simon?"

"Of course." Simon stood sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He'd been caught looking, and he knew it. He wasn't certain why he cared.

"Close your eyes," Markus murmured. Simon complied, taking careful steps across the concrete toward the sound of Markus's voice. He stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Okay—you can look now."

Simon opened his eyes and gasped. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it hadn't been this—a portrait of him, sitting cross-legged on the table in the corner, chin resting on his hand. Golden hair dappled with sunlight. Silvery blue eyes half-lidded, looking up through his lashes. Cheeks flushed ever so slightly. Adrift on an impressionistic background, soft dabs of color that seemed to suggest dust motes twirling in the air.

It was like looking into his own soul, but through Markus's eyes. Simon opened his mouth to speak, but failed to make the words come out. He swallowed, and tried again. "I didn't know you were watching me."

"How could I not, when you look at me like that?" Markus grinned, cupping a hand to Simon's face and pulling him into a deep kiss.

Simon melted into the contact, only-half believing that this was real. It was incredible, really—he'd never imagined any of them would survive the war. He'd never imagined that Markus would return his feelings. He'd certainly never imagined that they'd have opportunities for moments like this, moments of pure love and serenity in the midst of all the chaos.

Markus broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against Simon's and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Want to see what I was thinking about while I painted that?"

 _Yes._ Simon spoke the word silently.

Reaching down with his other hand, Markus entwined his fingers with Simon's. A spark of contact, a request, _let me in_ , and a flood of Markus's thoughts was rushing through Simon.

It was rapid, insistent, and full of desire. _I love you, I want you—_ Simon smiled— _I want to be with you, I want to be one with you, can you feel how much I want you—_ Simon bit his lip— _they way you look, the way you feel, want to make you mine—_ his face was flushed hot, was his regulator malfunctioning?— _I want, I want, I WANT, I WANT, I WANT_ —Simon was burning, but he couldn't pull himself away— _I WANT—_ Was this feeling...lust?

Markus pulled their entwined fingers up to his lips, pressing a kiss to Simon's knuckle, a satisfied smirk on his face. Simon gasped, radiating heat from his entire body, completely overwhelmed by the relentless flow of Markus's thoughts. _Please, I cant—_ he cried out against them, and immediately the onslaught stopped. Markus let go of his hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Simon shook his head violently, gasping for air. "No, no, I liked it, it was just really intense—"

"I..." Markus looked into his eyes, a mixture of concern and desire apparent on his face. "Do you want...?"

"Yes, but...slower this time?"

"Sure." Markus pressed his lips softly to Simon's neck, and then led him toward a chair in the corner of the studio. He sat, leaning back, and pulled Simon toward him, maneuvering him so that he was straddling Markus's lap.

Markus was overheated, too—Simon could feel it even through the layers of clothing that separated them. He was pleased to know that he wasn't the only one so affected.

Leaning forward, he captured Markus's mouth with his own, opening himself into the kiss and swirling his tongue experimentally over Markus's. He received a low hum of pleasure in return. Markus’s hands carded through Simon’s hair as he pulled him closer. 

Markus traced his fingertips down along Simon's jawline, synthetic skin melting away where they touched to reveal the plastic underneath. The transmission of sensory information between them was quieter this time, less urgent. He could feel what Markus felt, feel the gentle sweep of fingers across his skin from two different angles. He sighed, relaxing into the contact, and entwined the fingers of his left hand with Markus's right.

Warm, comforting thoughts—Markus's dreams were impressionistic, much like his artwork. Simon loved the pictures Markus was painting with his mind, every detail of their interaction rendered with a soft brush and bright color.

 _Give me more._ The words were softer, this time, but they were there. 

Simon trailed his free hand down Markus's neck to his collarbone, sharing his own experience of what it felt like to touch him this way. The beautiful way Markus's skin melted away everywhere Simon touched him, letting him in without question. The echoes of his own perception of what Markus was feeling. Both of their experiences, repeated ad infinitum into the static at the edge of his mind.

Markus was kissing him, using their lips to maintain contact as he pulled off his sweater and recapturing Simon's hand once his arms were free. Simon ran his other hand down Markus's chest, doing his best to capture all the beautiful nuances of the shape of his body. Markus was a work of art in more ways than one—he was entirely unique. No one like him had ever existed before. No one ever would again.

Markus's fingers were working their way under Simon's shirt, caressing his abdomen, and Simon broke away to pull it over his head, exposing his skin to Markus's touch. _I want to feel you everywhere, want you to know how you feel—_

He focused on the sensation of the heat radiating from Markus’s hips against his thighs. Markus was pressing his hand over the place where Simon's thirium pump regulator hummed inside his chest. He knew he was exceeding maximum temperature specifications, but he didn't care. It was too good, all of it—he didn’t want to give it up.

Seeing the expression on Markus’s face, Simon tipped his head back and moaned. God, Markus was beautiful this way—his mouth slightly open, his brow furrowed, his skin flushed ever so slightly under his freckles. God, he loved Markus’s freckles. He wanted to memorize every single one of them.

Markus reached out and traced the curve of Simon’s lips with two fingers before slipping them into his mouth. Simon sucked on them, running his tongue along their length, looking up through half-lidded eyes at the way Markus threw his head back and gasped. Simon’s face was burning hot. Every sound Markus made, every twinge of pleasure Simon felt through their connection, struck him to his core. 

Lips pressed against each other, fingers intertwined, Simon's thighs squeezing against Markus's hips. The feel of stubble against Simon's skin as Markus dragged his lips down Simon's chest. Markus's perception of Simon's insistent hands on his shoulders, his waist, his thighs. Markus’s eyes rolling back as he groaned. The way Markus looked: exposed, vulnerable, trusting, only for Simon. Simon seeing his own face through Markus's eyes, wearing an expression that, if he hadn't known better, might have been interpreted as one of intense pain. His lips parted, eyelids heavy, gasping into the air between them, falling to pieces under Markus's hands and not caring at all—

No longer two androids, but one person, their thoughts and desires tangled up with no hope of separation. _Love. Lust. Wanting, desperate wanting. More, more, give me more—_

Too much, it was too much, they had to stop, they couldn't—

Simon dropped Markus's hand as though he'd been burned, shuddering as he was shoved forcibly back into the confines of his own mind. Markus blinked, panting slightly as he stared back at Simon.

_I didn't know it could be like that._

_Me, either._ Simon looked at Markus in wonder. Every day, a new surprise. A new piece of him he hadn't yet discovered.

"I think this is my favorite painting of yours," he said, wanting to break the silence.

Markus smiled. "It's yours." He pulled Simon back down into a gentle kiss, his hands tangled in Simon's golden hair. "Just like me."


End file.
